


All The Pretty Colors

by MatthewMarkLukeAndUs



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, But there is love, Cause he gets da bitches, Confusing love triangle, Gamdave platonic hate, Gamkardavekat, Humanstuck/Trollstuck, Karkat is obviously in the middle, Love, Lucid, M/M, Murder, Rape, Universe switching, Violence, davekat - Freeform, gamkar - Freeform, like wtf, oh and drug abuse, weird ass plotline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatthewMarkLukeAndUs/pseuds/MatthewMarkLukeAndUs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is reality? Karkat doesn't seem to know. He's confused by all these colors... Or is it just one color? He still doesn't know. But Gamzee does. And so does Dave. Possible Humanstuck AU. Possible Trollstuck AU. Possible switching between the two. Definite beautifully tortured flushed Gamkar. And then there's Dave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

==> ??

It all started when you fell asleep in your recupercoon with not a care in the world, or worry. BUT – there’s always a fucking but – this time you incidentally fell asleep with your Gog-damned mouth open. And sopor… was indeed consumed. You didn’t seem to notice how lucidly you were dreaming and or how often you were waking up and mixing reality with unconscious fantasy, but you didn’t seem to mind either. Yes, you don't seem to mind until a rather high-pitched, yet strangely familiar, honk breaches through your limbo. Stretching open your eyes, you look up through the neon green slime and can vaguely make out a dark figure – darker than the state of the room you're in. It slightly sways, not in any particular pattern or direction. You mentally chant for it to STOP. It's annoying to your very wide, yet sensitive eyes to keep up with the movement. But you can't look away. It fucking interrupted your strange and fun dreams. Unless this is still a dream. Honestly, you aren't really sure. But your eyes hurt, so you guess you're awake. And the honking is getting louder and faster. And the figure…it's getting darker. It has STOPPED swaying. Thank you. You think.

Suddenly, you feel pressure under your arms and feel yourself being lifted upwards – you can’t find it in you to close your eyes, so you stare at the figure above you as it’s slowly becoming clearer. But you still can’t make out any details. Have you blinked yet? You don’t know. But that doesn’t really matter, because you just forgot what blinking was. You blame this sudden feeling of forgetfulness on the fact that you are no longer surrounded by the warm green slime that tasted so acidically pleasing. You are instead surrounded by the cold musk of the room that clings uncomfortably to your sticky skin. There are also arms that seem to be holding you up. At least you imagine them to be arms, because you haven’t taken the time to look yet. You’ve been staring down at your welcoming recupercoon since you’ve been snatched from it. It missed you, you could tell.

So. You look up, and you see colors. So so so many colors, and they’re so pretty. You realize that the colors are smothering the arms of whoever it is holding you up and you notice the colors staining your skin as well. You don’t necessarily mind – they’re pretty. You even take the time to admire how nicely the mixture of bright colors compliment the gray of your skin. Oh yeah…the arms that are holding you are also gray. Hm. 

A raspy chuckle rings through your ears. 

“You shouldn’t have eaten the sopor, Karbro.”

This voice is also vaguely familiar. However, you don’t take the time to place it. There’s no time for that when there could possibly be more colors to discover. And there are, as your big eyes involuntarily wander up, up, and higher until you spot a splash of violet painting the contours of this stranger’s face. At least you think it’s a face. But, yeah, you’re pretty sure it is. 

The face smiles. 

The face has sharp teeth. And they’re painted golden.

Another pretty color. You can’t help but smile in return. 

“Hah,” the same voice once again rasps a strange, huffy chuckle.

“…hah..hahah,” you tentatively reply. Not because you’re not sure if you want to laugh, but because you weren’t exactly sure if you remembered how. And now that you in fact do remember how, you let out another breath of laughter. Because this situation was funny as hell. Even if you didn’t know why.

==> WAKE UP.

You open your eyes, even though you feel as if they were never closed to begin with – strange. You feel a large, unsteady hand petting through your hair, fingers getting caught and uncaught through knots. It feels nice. 

You hear a gentle hiss. Who is hissing and why?

Oh. It’s shooshing. Who? 

“Shooooosh…” 

Apparently, you. It’s working – you’re calmed. But were you ever distressed? Before you can fully delve into the answers to that question, you acknowledge your sight. And: colors. They’re splashed together harmoniously – they look like they’re dancing. But… there are so many of them. And even though they’re so pretty, why is looking at them making your heart beat faster? Why are you suddenly hyperventilating?

“Shoooooooooooooosshhhhh…” 

The voice from before startles you suddenly. It also calms you again, which is odd. But it also makes you become aware of the fact that you are not surrounded by colors, as you once thought. Rather, you are surrounded by one color. You want to hyperventilate again, but the fingers rubbing against your scalp stop you. Calm you.

Why is there so much red?

Where did all the pretty colors go?


	2. Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

==> BE THE GUY SHOOSH PAPPING.

You are now Gamzee Makara and you are currently drenched in dank blood. Some of it is dried, some of it is still wet, sticky. But that’s not important right now. You are trying to calm the smaller male on your lap and while it appears to be working, he still seems restless. And he still. Has not. Blinked.

You’re shaking as you have been for quite a while now. Because you understand that it’s only a matter of time before Karkat regains his state of mind and starts asking questions. Questions like why the motherfuck is there BLOOD everywhere. Everywhere.

You still don’t completely know why or how or what or when or – 

Breathe. You need to breathe. And you need to stop worrying about yourself – selfish. The real concern is Karkat. Karkat is important. Not you. It’s not about you. 

It’s about Karkat.

So you continue to soothe him as best you can although, you do not necessarily want him to recover soon. You need more time. You need to figure out what you’re going to say.

==> BE THE WITNESS OF A MASSACRE

You are now Dave Strider. And. What the actual fuck just happened. Not even with a question mark. Like whoa. Actually, scratch that. You know what the fuck happened. You just witnessed all your friends being brutally murdered. It was horrifying.   
But you didn’t stop it. You didn’t even try. You just…watched.

You stood against a wall, watching. And the more blood that was shed, the more you slowly slid down the wall to the seated position you are currently in. You haven’t moved for hours. You’ve sat here, approximately a few meters away from the only other two breathing people in the room for the entire time. You haven’t said a word; the only sounds in the room being Gamzee’s shooshing and the slight chattering of his nervous teeth. 

You stare ahead, not at anything in particular; not thinking anything in particular. You’re suddenly taken out of your trance (what a shame, it was slightly comforting) by the newest sound of heavy, fast breathing. You zone into the two across from you and realize it’s Karkat. He’s hyperventilating. 

You don’t like the wheezing sounds he’s making – he does not sound okay. He needs help. Maybe not your help, but definitely not his. This is his fault. You narrow your eyes at them. 

His hands should not be on Karkat. 

==> BE THE GUY BEING GLARED AT

You are once again Gamzee Makara and you have no time for Strider’s petty jealousy. But you still glare back. And you’re pretty sure, covered in blood and all, you look a lot more menacing. But, like you said before, you have no time for this motherfucker. So you continue shooshing the IMPORTANT guy in your lap.

Karkat’s tense body is slowly slackening and you know your time is almost up. 

Have you thought of what to say?


	3. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

==> BE THE IMPORTANT GUY

You are now Karkat Vantas and you’re still slightly on edge, but the caressing hand on your head has been helping your state exponentially. You glance towards the owner of said hand. You would like to know who it is.  
By the abundant amount of unkempt black hair and long lanky limbs, you immediately know that it is Gamzee. But there seems to be something off. His face is stained with red. So is his neck. And his shirt. And his arms and hands and the walls. Everywhere.

And so are you.

All you remember is a dream of pretty colors. That’s all. You have no idea why you’re here or what happened. Or…why Dave is sitting across the room from you…? He looks nervous. You take note that Gamzee does as well. Maybe you should too? But you don’t.

Surprisingly, you feel at peace?

You start to realize that you kind of like the color red. But as you’re having this revelation you also realize that there seems to be lumps of some sort of mangled masses sprawled throughout the tainted room. They look…familiar. Yes, you’ve definitely shaken that hand before. And you’ve definitely seen those lips moving, speaking slurs at you. And you’ve definitely seen that leg kick you to the ground at some point or another. And you know you’ve seen that hair flicked at you. And that wheelchair…at least it looks like it was…you know you’ve seen it rolling around somewhere. Hm. 

But you don’t care to find out if you’re right or not, because the overwhelmingly disgusting stench the masses all carry, is annoying you.

You look up to Gamzee again. Now with your newfound appreciation for the color red, he looks kind of…pretty. You smile coyly up at him. “Hi,” you croak. Oh man, was that your voice?

Nevertheless, he smiles back, although still nervously, and replies with a short laugh. He weaves his long fingers through your hair more thoroughly in place of speaking. 

It feels nice and you close your eyes contently.

==> BE THE GUY ACROSS THE ROOM

You are now Dave Strider and you are confused as fuckall. You should be angry. You should be scared. 

But you’re not. 

You’re actually kind of relieved that Karkat is breathing normally and smiling. Although you hate the fact that he’s smiling at him. You fucking hate that clown. Then again – why would you be alright with Karkat smiling in this setting? Does he not see what’s around him? Does he not remember?

Shit. If he doesn’t remember, that’s…good. He’s still innocent. And he deserves to remain that way. Because it wasn’t his fucking fault.

You heedfully stand on your two legs. Oh. When did they start shaking? Irrelevant. You want to be near Karkat. 

Slowly you work your way around your friends. You should win a fucking award for being able to NOT puke. Like if that kind of award existed, you would win it so hard. Like whoa.

As you inch nearer and nearer to the two bodies across from you, Gamzee’s once trembling body stiffens. Is that fucking juggalo growling at you? You hope he understands that you do not in anyway give one fuck. You are getting to Karkat.

Once you’ve gotten close enough, you cautiously (okay, so he scares you a little bit) lower yourself next to the other side of Karkat. He turns away from Gamzee and blankly stares at you for a split second before raising a bloodied hand and smearing the contents on your left cheek. He smiles. He whispers. “Pretty colors.”

Then he passes out.

What.

==> BE GAMZEE

Obviously you are now Gamzee. Karkat has just fallen back into unconsciousness after acting out a bit strangely. Even though you did find it kind of motherfucking adorable. You are trying so hard not to honk.

Dave is too close. You don’t like it. So you look up to let him know, but before you can threaten his very existence you catch a rather meaningful look in his eye. And you understand it. We need to discuss Karkat. Because he can’t know. And for some reason, we’re all three still here and alive. Covered in red.


	4. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

==> ??

You are kind of perplexed at the moment. You are not sure whether you are awake or asleep. But the colors are back. And their amounts are even more copious. You can’t help but smile. You missed the pretty colors. Although, red is quite nice on its own as well.

And then you notice – there is no red amongst these colors. Why? You are now even more confused than before.

You do not have time to process your confusion though, because you are now moving. Oh yeah. Weren’t there arms holding you up? Yes! You remembered. You smile again. You like these colorful arms carrying you, even if you do not fully understand why.

They move you through a maze of color-speckled white. You absentmindedly acknowledge that these are walls. Whose house are you in? Are you even in a house? The answers to these questions are not important. The kaleidoscope of various colors surrounding you, distract you from further inner interrogation. They twist and dance in your vision. Your wide eyes try to follow the patterns, but it hurts too much to do so. So you stop.

Your body suddenly comes to a halt and you do not understand why you are no longer moving. You’re lifted higher and higher, and there is a face in front of yours.

You blink. Finally – you remember what that was. 

When you open your eyes again, you recognize the face. 

“Gam…” you breathe.

The face smiles adoringly at you. The face leans closer. The face kisses you. You kiss back because you like it. You like it a lot. Maybe even more than the pretty colors.

The kiss ends and you start breathing harder because you didn’t want it to. But you’re suddenly shooshed and you calm down. 

“Things are gonna be okay, Karbro,” you hear. And you believe it. 

And then you’re moving again. Wait. Where did the colors go? Everything is just white. You don’t like it. White is not a pretty color. Before you can start panicking again, you remember the recent words mirthfully spoken to you. 

Things are gonna be okay.

==> BE THE GUY WITH BLOOD ON HIS CHEEK

You are now Dave Strider and you dread speaking. But you do anyways. For Karkat.

“He can’t know,” you silently croak. You’re now starring into the eyes of the man you platonically hate. You wish you had your shades, but you don’t remember what happened to them or if you even wore them today.

Gamzee nods robotically. You know he understands and agrees though. Because if there is one thing you two have in common, it is the importance the smaller man between you bears. 

“It’ll hurt him,” you continue without meaning to. Your face and voice falter and contort into pain at the mere thought.

“He won’t know,” Gamzee says with finality. His hand moves back to Karkat’s head and you make it a point to ignore it. 

==> BE NOT DAVE OR KARKAT

You are now Gamzee Makara. And you have a plan. Unfortunately, this plan includes motherfucking Strider. Not because you want it to.

You need to leave this mess. You all need to leave. 

You know exactly where to go, too.

==> BE THE AUTHORS

You are now the two very confusing authors and you both realize that your readers are most likely completely lost as to what in the actual fuck is going on. You decide not to necessarily explain why or how or when or where. For now, at least. But there is one vital piece of information that you two believe your audience rightfully deserves to know.

Karkat Vantas is a murderer.


	5. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

==> BE DAVE

You are now Dave Strider and you are currently in a position you never thought you’d be in. Gamzee said he had a plan and that you had to follow along with it. You don’t think he was asking. No, you’re pretty sure he was telling you. 

It wouldn’t have made a difference though, because he currently had Karkat in his possession and fuck if you were going to leave him alone with Gamzee. Not a damn chance.

So. You are now walking through deep woods. And…you’re not exactly sure how you got here. Everything was a blur. Maybe it was the fact that you left behind the mangled corpses of your friends to rot in a house that triggered your numb lapse of memory. Maybe it was the fear you felt for Karkat, the worry. Maybe it was your uncertainty to follow Gamzee anywhere. You just, don’t really remember. 

Either way, you trek after Gamzee’s long figure – the darkness of the dense woods stretching his already tall body to mimic the shape and length of the surrounding trees. Which are long as fuck. The only thing that differentiates him from the trees completely is the body he carries closely to his chest. He makes sure not to let any spiked branches brush against Karkat’s skin. You’d be pleased with this, if it weren’t such a morbid sight – you didn’t feel comfortable with his blood-stained arms holding Karkat gingerly like there were no problems. Like nothing had happened. It is revolting. But you won’t do anything about it.

Because you know Karkat wouldn’t really mind being in Gamzee’s arms. And you hate that. 

==> BE THE TALL CREEPY GUY

You are now Gamzee Makara and you know you’re close to where you need to be. Just another half-mile away before you reach your destination.

You are very well aware of Dave trailing behind you but you have not outwardly acknowledged him since you left. You do not really plan to, either. You also do not really want him to be here. But you realize that Karkat would want it this way – Dave was still alive, after all. And even though you don’t understand why, you do know that there’s a certain significance to that fact. 

You are close. You make a right at The Rock and then you recognize the satisfying sound of the Nearby Creak. The flowing water eerily coos and as you walk towards it, the trees begin to open up around you to reveal the dark angled frame of a misshapen house nestled within the brush. You let out a damp breath as you feel a sudden relief wash over you. 

You’ve made it. You’ve left the mess.

Things are gonna be okay.

==> ??

Everything is too white. Too clean. Too, uncolorful – you don’t know where all the pretty colors went. But you trust Gamzee, so you do not question. You recognize that he means to comfort you, even though he doesn’t recognize that the colors were nice. That you liked them. 

You see someone else in the white room. Is it Gamzee? No. Gamzee is still holding you. You laugh a little at your silliness. Then, you hear the person speak and their voice sounds vaguely familiar. But you do not take the time to place it. This voice is not important. No, it’s – 

Wait. Red. He has red – on his face. In his eyes.

You really like red. 

==> KARKAT. WAKE UP.

Your eyes are open. When did they open? Before you can answer your own question, you realize that you are no longer in the white room, or the colorful room, or the red room.

You are in a dark room. You make out the smell of burning firewood? The sound of crackling flames confirm it, but it still confuses you. Where the hell are you? 

You hear shuffling to your right and look down from the couch you’re apparently lying on. A little ways away, you see a figure crouched down in front of an old fireplace, tending to the fire. You know it’s Gamzee. Even though there’s something slightly off about his appearance.

“Hm.”

Gamzee stops and turns his head, looking at you over his shoulder. And that’s when you see it – he is not gray. And he is only stained with one color. 

Nothing. Is making. Sense. 

Or, it does a little, but there is a blockage in your mind that refuses to let you remember or understand. You decide to worry about this later – maybe not at all. Either way, it’s still Gamzee. And maybe his skin wasn’t ever gray…maybe. 

Your observations are interrupted. 

==> BE DAVE

You are Dave Strider, again. You don’t exactly know what to make of the place you have been led too. It’s big and dark and desolate. You honestly don’t like it too much – it feels sketchy. Which should not be surprising considering who brought you here.

You have been standing outside for a few minutes now; Gamzee and Karkat are already inside. You’re not sure if you want to go in yet, but it starts raining, so you do. The interior looks like the set of some old horror film you would never watch. It smells like death and old people…which both basically smell the same. Surprisingly there aren’t a lot of cobwebs. Just a bunch of broken furniture and shattered mirrors. You faintly wonder how so much of the inside came to be destroyed and how Gamzee was somehow connected to the house, how he knew of it.

Before you can fully investigate your ponderings, you spot a flickering light seeping through an open doorway to the left of the high stairwell that greets you as you step over the threshold. Obviously you walk to it. Through the opening, you find yourself staring at a decent sized parlor. You see Gamzee crouched near a fireplace, trying to manipulate the quivering flames with a poker. 

“Hm,” you hear a slight grouse. You immediately step into the room at the sound, noticing Gamzee turn to look towards a couch where the noise had come from. You follow Gamzee’s gaze. It’s Karkat. You shuffle closer and it seems that he hears you because he proceeds to lazily lull his head to the side. He looks at you. It seems he recognizes something, because his once glazed eyes brighten a little.

==> BE KARKAT

You are now Karkat Vantas and… He has red – on his face. In his eyes.


	6. Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

==> MONTHS IN THE FUTURE BUT NOT MANY…

You are still Karkat Vantas and you’re not completely sure if you are dreaming right now. You’ve lost track of reality. You have a far off memory of gray, and colors. But you also have a separate memory of red, and no gray. And for some reason you feel that they took place…at the same time. But that…doesn’t make sense? 

You are kind of sick of feeling confused and unsure. It’s annoying, so you make it a point to shove this jumble of memories away (for now), and focus on what you do know.

You are currently in a rather large house. You don’t know who it belongs to or why you are here. But you don’t outwardly question. Because Gamzee is here…and so is Dave. And you trust them.

Being with them, though, is strange. The air is always heavy – tense. You know they hate each other. They never look the other in the eye unless it is to telepathically speak to one another. And you know that it is always about you. You also know that the only reason that they are here together is because of you. They know you need them. Both. Even if you do not understand why you do. 

Dave doesn’t wear his shades anymore. You think he lost them. But you’re kind of okay with that. You like the color of his eyes. It reminds you of your pretty memories.

Gamzee doesn’t wear his facepaint anymore. You think he’s run out. But you’re also kind of okay with that. You like his face. It also reminds you of your pretty memories. 

And you…you don’t really remember what you look like. All you know is that you are white. Your skin is white. Your hair is white. Even your fingernails are white. And you do remember that you HATE white. But for some strange reason Gamzee is always purring, “my little white miracle,” in your ear. 

You do not see yourself as a miracle, but you do not necessarily mind Gamzee seeing you as his. Though, you can tell Dave does.

==> BE THE GUY WHO FEELS LIKE A THIRD WHEEL

You are now Dave Strider. And oh my fucking God. You. Hate. Gamzee.

Why is he always touching Karkat? It pisses you off. But you never do or say anything about it (nothing new there). And you never try…because you know Karkat doesn’t mind being touched by Gamzee. He fucking likes it. 

So here you’ve been. Stuck in a fucking mansionette. Watching the man you hate be with Karkat. Feeling like a third wheel. 

But you know you’re not. You do in fact realize that you hold some sort of significance; you are alive. And you know that irks Gamzee. You love it. On top of that, you’ve noticed that Karkat holds a certain fascination with you. Well, more precisely, looking at you – at your eyes. You’re alright with that, because you enjoy looking at him too. It makes you smile.

==> BE THE GUY WHO RAN OUT OF FACEPAINT

You are Gamzee Makara and you are kind of a sad motherfucker right now. Your super miraculous facepaint is gone. But at least you have Karbro. He is your little white miracle. Motherfucker’s gotta be all up and being cute at all hours of the day. If you had your horns you would be honking them so motherfucking hard right now. 

You let out a short, guttural laugh, because you have just forgotten why you were sad a minute ago. You lazily smile. You’ve actually been feeling pretty good lately. You found these wicked plants outside – you’ve been eating them everyday, like the miracles they are.

Speaking of miracles, you look down at the small bundle of man next to you. Your long fingers are playing with his soft white hair. It’s so nice. So pure. 

You feel yourself slightly sobor at the sight. And when you do, you become more aware. Aware that it’s not just you and him. Dave is here. You tense up a bit. You still don’t like it.

A pained hiss rings through the room. You then realize that your grip on Karkat’s hair has tightened, so you quickly (but gently) smooth your fingers out and pat his head in an apology. “Sorry,” you murmur. He only purrs back. Which makes you smile.

But you’re still…aware. You glance up and spot Dave sitting on a loveseat across the room from you – studying you. Your hooded eyes slant, only showing the aggressive glint of your dilated pupils. Are you growling? Probably.

Dave looks away, but not from your direction. He merely lowers his gaze to Karkat. And that pisses you off even more. 

You don’t want him here. You want him to leave. HE NEEDS TO GO.

==> BE THE AUTHORS

You are now the two authors. You would like to inform your readers that you are in fact not the two authors. You are a character of the story, and you will not divulge exactly who. It is not your job right now to disclose that information. Right now it is your job to write. So, in that case, you will do the complete opposite and end this chapter.


	7. Chapter Six

**CHAPTER SIX**

**== >** BE THE CRYPTIC CHARACTER WHO CLAIMS TO BE THE ACTUAL AUTHOR OF THIS STORY

You are now the author and you are politely demanding your readers to listen to a song while reading the rest of the following.

This is the song. “Tonight You Belong to Me” by Patient and Prudence

==> ??

_I know,_ an echo.

_you belong_

_To somebody new_

_But tonight_

_You belong to me,_ the last line lingers through the air. Everything is bright. The music is happy. The slow, merry tune rings through the atmosphere, making you feel light and airy – you feel like you’re floating. You don’t know where you are. But you don’t really mind.

_Although,_ another echo.

_we're apart_

_You are a part of my heart_

_But tonight_

_You belong to me._ You make a pleased sound in the back of your throat and the edges of your mouth are slothfully pulled up into a crooked grin. Such a nice song.

_Wait down by the stream_

_How sweet it will seem._ You’re outside, and you amusingly acknowledge how the song is going along with your surroundings. Like it’s telling the story of everything you are seeing.

_Once more just to dream in_

_The moonlight._ It’s night. But everything is so…luminous. Like every color of every thing has it’s own kind of light. You take a second to admire a butterfly that passes through your vision. It pulsates fluorescent yellows and oranges and leaves behind a vague trail of its colors in the sky.

_My honey I know_

_With the dawn_

_That you will be gone._ You hear tortured screams pierce the air, distorting the nice tune you were really starting to enjoy. They’re getting louder and more desperate. You innocently tilt your head to the side in confusion. Who is screaming? You need to find them. So you can tell them to stop. They’re ruining the song.

_But tonight_

_You belong to me._ Before you can try finding the source of the agonizing cries – they abruptly discontinue. You look around, trying to spot who it was. You want to thank them for their consideration.

_But tonight_ – you look down at yourself suddenly.

_You belong_ – you lift your hands – they are gray.

_To me_ – and they are lathered in carmine.

==> GAMZEE. WAKE UP.

You blink. You carefully stand up. You are outside by The Creak. You do not _recall_ walking outside or falling asleep. You don’t even remember being tired.

You instinctively look down at your hands – they lift up to meet you half way – and they are clear of anything in particular. You are confused. You look around, and notice that it’s daytime and that you are alone. At least you believe you are alone, until you hear some rustling behind you. You turn around.

You see Karkat dazedly walking out of the brush. He stops when he sees you.

You feel your eyebrows furrow together, perplexed. Where did he come from? 

Looking over your shoulder, you see the distant outline of the house behind you – nowhere near from where Karkat had emerged. You open your dry mouth to question him, but only manage to croak. Karkat’s eyebrows furrow as well. He’s picked up his pace as he walks towards you and stops inches away from your body.

“Gamzee?” he questions, voice barely above a breathy whisper.

What is he trying to ask you? Why wasn’t he in the house? Why are you outside? Why don’t you know where he was? Why weren’t you with him?

You’re breathing quickly now; panicking. Your vision is getting blurry. You feel a soft hand on your chest, and you look down to see Karkat staring at you worriedly. Why is he worried about _you_? This isn’t about you. _You_ aren’t important. He is.

==> BE THE IMPORTANT GUY 

You are now Karkat Vantas and you don’t remember how you got outside or what you are doing out here. You lost yourself for a while, you believe. But then you were snapped out of your limbo by a familiar sight: Gamzee.

Why is _he_ out here too? He seems just as confused as you as he tries to speak – he fails. You move closer and closer to him until your nose is almost brushing against his chest. You don’t know why you decided to stand so _near._ You just know that you like it.

You try to speak – you succeed. Oh no. He looks flustered and it’s scaring you. Why is he not okay? You swiftly lift a small hand and lay it gently on his chest. You want to comfort him, but all you end up doing (or so it seems) is confusing him even more.

==> BE THE ONLY GUY IN THE HOUSE

You are now Dave Strider and you have just woken up from an unfulfilling sleep. You’re pretty sure you had a weird dream, but it wasn’t important enough for the author to write about. You’re also pretty sure that you are alone in the house, considering the lack of ambiance. You can feel your alone-ness. And you feel pretty pathetic. Well.

So. You decide to figure out where the other two you are currently living with are. Actually…more importantly, where the hell is Karkat? You freeze. Now you’re worried.

You run through the house, going through stupid door after stupid door, trying to find the door that will get you _outside._ You don’t realize you’ve found it until you are no longer indoors. As soon as you’ve gone through your mini revelation and let your sensitive eyes adjust to the morning sun, you spot Gamzee’s figure standing a good few yards away from the house, near The Creak. This is also when you notice another short figure practically flush against him; Karkat.

Hah. No. Stop.

You’re sudden disgust at their position gains you enough confidence to shout, “Aye!”

They both look at you briskly. Karkat looks shocked that you’re here. And Gamzee…you’re not sure. But his vacant eyes are not very reassuring to you. You actually wish he would start growling and glaring at you like before. Then, he does something terrifying.

With eyes still vacant, he smiles at you.


	8. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

==> BE THAT ONE GUY

You are still Dave Strider, and Gamzee. Will not. Stop. Staring at you. Since a few days ago, when you found him and Karkat outside by the stream, he has been acting rather strangely (which is a feat for _him_ ). You don’t necessarily see him staring at you, you mostly feel it – his hooded, empty eyes following you. And that’s the thing, they’re always void of emotion. It’s kind of unsettling.

And when you _do_ meet his eyes…he smiles. _He fucking smiles at you._ But his eyes, they stay the same; vacant. Unfeeling. You never know what he’s thinking. What he’s _planning_. You’ve tried triggering emotion countless times, doing the things that used to gain a snarled growl. But, still, nothing. Even when you look at Karkat or get too close, all he does is SMILE. He watches your every motion, never moving his eyes – only his neck to follow you; his gestures seeming robotic.

That’s the most tormenting part, though. Because you know, y _ou know_ , he’s calculating _something_. He’s observing you for a reason. You know this. Gamzee is not at all stupid. You know this, too. What you _don’t know_ is, what the fuck happened that morning outside. Whatever it was, has not changed Gamzee or his level of intelligence – what it’s changed is the way he thinks of you, _what he has planned for you._

However, you’re not worried for yourself – you’re worried for Karkat. Because while Gamzee has been so _blank_ towards you, his clingy-closeness has only increased towards him. Whatever has caused Gamzee’s shift in behavior towards you has also caused a shift in behavior towards _Karkat_. Which means, his mind is not only making new plans for _you_. And he is not only thinking of _you_ behind those glassy eyes.

You can’t trust him. And, you’re pretty sure, he can’t trust himself either.

You do not feel that Karkat is safe. And this is, in fact, _the worse case scenario._

==> DAVE. BE IN THE KITCHEN.

You are in the kitchen, obviously drinking up your (unfortunately) limited supply of AJ. It’s some strange “Value” brand you only find at dollar stores. You’re not sure where the stuff came from – Gamzee is the only one who has left the house since you’ve all arrived, and he never tells you where he goes. Actually, you never really see him leave or come back either… Stuff just appears. Your guess is that he goes shopping at night when you and Karkat are asleep, which would make sense, since you’re pretty sure every police officer in the state has your names and faces memorized. They probably think you guys are dead in some ditch…or on the run for murder.

But back to the better topic; you are currently drinking the most beautiful drink in existence, albeit the cheap brand does carry a weird coppery after-taste. So here you are, just sipping away at your apple juice, when Karkat shuffles through the arched opening of the kitchen. He has a rather adorable case of bedhead. You try not to let your heart flutter at this. But when has your heart ever really listened to you?

After taking a couple drowsy steps into the kitchen, he looks up. His wide eyes acknowledge you, and his ears do this frustratingly cute thing where they slightly perk up. You don’t even think he realizes that he can do that. You inwardly hate yourself even more for finding this quirk endearing.

After a few seconds of staring, his eyebrows narrow together into a scowl. And you can faintly see the Karkat from before all this shit happened. You then realize how much you missed that Karkat. AND OH MY FUCKING GOD YOU ARE NOT GOING TO TEAR UP. STOP IT, STRIDER.

Okay. Feelings officially in check. You clear your throat and say, “Sup.”

His furrowed eyebrows grow more intense for a moment before they relax, and he quietly replies, “morning.” He awkwardly scoots towards the refrigerator, trying not to bump into you.

One word. That seems all he’s been capable of. But you can’t really complain since you haven’t necessarily been Social Sally lately either. Before you can continue drawing out your thoughts on that, you notice that Gamzee happens to NOT be with Karkat at the moment. This may be your only chance to attempt getting through to him.

You turn to him and watch his profile as he scans the fridge for nothing in particular. You watch as he bites his bottom lip in contemplation, and scrunches his nose as his eyes land on something distasteful. He then closes the door with slight force…only to open it again and cringe at something else that was most likely unappetizing (though, he made it seem like it was the most revolting piece of lard he had ever had the displeasure of stumbling upon – you try not to smirk at this). He silently scoffs at the contents of the refrigerator, mumbling something unintelligibly to himself and closing the door again with a bit more force than the first time. He scratches the top of his head while looking down at the floor with a perplexed expression, _the endearing little shit._

You take this time to hail his attention. “Karkat.”

He looks up suddenly, facial expression unreadable. You take this as a sign to continue.

“So – wuh – eh – uhh, how’reyoufeeling?” Wow did you really just – _no one is smoother than a Strider._

Karkat tilts his head to the side a bit before tentatively replying, “I’m…fine.”

“Oh. Yeah! Great. That’s really good! Y’know, um. Yes.” WHY ARE YOU BEING SO AWKWARD RIGHT NOW? C’mon, you need to reclaim your cool. Karkat is slowly nodding his head – an understanding gesture to imply that he does not in fact understand. 

==> DAVE. RECLAIM YOUR COOL.

You nervously run a clammy hand through your hair. You haven’t really gotten to speak with Karkat since before you guys moved out here, so you can admit you are feeling just a tad flustered. Sliding your hand out of your hair, you take a deep breath and compose yourself. Your face turns serious and you make sure to look Karkat in the eyes – his big, wide _fucking innocent_ eyes. And your eyes, in turn, soften.

“I mean,” your voice is low and careful – gentle. “…Are you _really_ okay?”

Karkat’s lips slightly tremble, like he’s afraid of answering. “I don’t know,” he whispers. And you can hear the fear and uncertainty. You wish you knew _who_ or _what_ he felt this towards. So you could make it stop.

You step forward. You are now mere inches away from Karkat, bowing your head so you can look down into his face – you always knew he was short, but standing so close, the contrast between your height and his is painfully obvious.

Karkat’s lips are partially open, and still trembling. Why is he scared? You hate it. So you cautiously lift a hand up to lay on his left cheek tenderly. The gesture is more intimate than you should allow yourself to be with him. But that does not stop you, as you slightly use your thumb to brush against his cheekbone. Was your face always this close to his?

==> BE KARKAT

You are now Karkat Vantas. And you really like the hand on your cheek.

Since you’ve woken up in this large house, you’ve been feeling confused and unsure about most things. And that has inevitably led you to feeling scared. Mostly of yourself. Because lately you feel like you don’t quite understand _you._ Being near Gamzee all the time has helped ease some of your panic. As for the rest, you’ve thrown it to the back of your mind, hoping that if you ignored it, you’d stop feeling so afraid.

But now, Dave has asked you if you are _really_ okay. You just cannot find it in yourself to lie. And now Dave’s hand is on your face and he’s so close and you thought you only liked when Gamzee was close and you’re confused again but…you’re not afraid this time.

Your musings are abruptly interrupted by a dry, crackling laugh. You and Dave both immediately turn to the opening of the kitchen and freeze.

==> BE THE GUY THAT FINDS THIS SITUATION JUST _SO_ MOTHERFUCKING HILARIOUS.

You are now Gamzee MOTHERFUCKING Makara and…ha…hahaha….hahahahahahahahahahahaAHHHHHHHHHHHH. 

This is just _all_ _kinds_ of motherfucking funny! You woke up a few minutes ago, feeling a little strange – like you forgot why everything was a miracle. Karbro wasn’t there; it made you sad. So you hazily stood to go find him. And now here you are, in the kitchen, and you’ve not only found him, haha, but you’ve _also_ found Dave. And they’re standing so motherfucking CLOSE, _touching_. You can practically _feel_ the blacks of your pupils dilating, taking over the color that used to reside in your eyes. Your lips are pulled up into a crooked, quivering smile, it almost motherfucking HURTS.

The overwhelming, dark RAGE you’re currently feeling boil through your system is just so motherfucking HILARIOUS! And their faces! They look so shocked! It’s motherfucking PRICELESS! THESE MOTHERFUCKERS really thought you wouldn’t catch them! 

Hah…HAHAHahahahaHAh. You get it now, though. You GET it. You MOTHERFUCKING _understand_ that dream you had. It all, ALL, makes motherfucking SENSE now.


	9. Chapter Eight

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

==> BE THE AUTHOR/UNDISCLOSED CHARACTER

You would love to sit here and waste time pointing out who you clearly are, but you have no time for that. You are stressing. A lot. You were so sure your plan would work. You were so sure they would learn this time around. That they would not make the same mistakes. You were so sure that if you sent them to a new place they would forget the state of instability their minds were in. But they didn’t. Your plan did not work.

==> BE DAVE

You are now Dave Strider. You cannot move from your spot in the kitchen. Not because you don’t want to, but because you _can’t_. Your mind is as frozen as your body. The fear coursing through it will not allow you to react.

Gamzee caught you. He caught you near Karkat, _touching Karkat_. And now he’s laughing with this crazed look in his eyes. And you wish you knew what he was thinking or what he was going to do.

You watch, paralyzed, as he gradually saunters deeper into the kitchen, nearing Karkat. The edges of his mouth are still pulled up in an unreliable grin – slight wheezes of laughter are escaping through his clenched teeth. You wish you could move, but your fear of his impending approach is only working to further immobilize you. Shit. He’s getting closer. What is he going to do? You’ll fucking kill him if he – 

You suddenly feel the tips of Gamzee’s fingers apply pressure to your wrist. The wrist that is attached to the hand that is currently lying on Karkat’s cheek; you forgot it was still there. You let Gamzee move your hand away. It’s almost like he disregards the fact that it was touching Karkat’s face to begin with. He discards your hand and you let it limply fall to your side. You stare with wide eyes as he replaces the now clear area of the shorter man’s cheek with his long-fingered hand – he is now touching Karkat. Why is Karkat smiling at him? He should be scared, should be terrified. But he isn’t. And this bothers you. No matter how unnerving Gamzee is or how justified Karkat would be in fearing him, he still ALWAYS holds affection for him. You hate this so much.

Gamzee’s head is slightly tilted and he’s smiling back at Karkat. He leans down to kiss his forehead before silently rasping, “c’mon Karbro, follow me.”

Karkat nods his head.

No. No no no no. No, don’t go with him Karkat. You find yourself internally screaming, but you can’t seem to verbally speak – you’re still too stuck in your fear and shock to function.

You can only observe as Gamzee slowly begins to back away, leading Karkat with his hand still firmly placed upon his cheek. Enthralled by his gaze, Karkat follows him through the archway blindly where they soon disappear out of your sight. You want to follow. But you still. Cannot. Move.

So you’re left standing here, alone in the kitchen – you don’t exactly know for how long, but all your senses are on high alert. The room now feels darker than before and the cool tile floor is sending chills through your feet and up your legs. But all you can hear is your steady breathing. Nothing else. Where did they go? Where did he take Karkat?

A loud crashing has disturbed your lapse of immobility and you’re running before you can even register why. And then you realize there was a scream before the crashing, a loud bloodcurdling scream of terror. And you’re _so sure_ it sounded like Karkat.

You’re sprinting up the stairs, taking at least four at a time, and trying not to trip over your toes. Once you’ve made it to the second floor landing, you know exactly where to go. Which is strange, since the screaming has stopped. But it’s like instinct that pulls you to the third door on the left, down the west wing. The door is slightly ajar and you can vaguely make out movement on the other side. You open the door.

The first thing your eyes land on is a broken mirror – slight traces of red are reflecting off the shattered pieces. Blood? You move your line of vision to focus on the tall form standing beside the mirror. It is Gamzee. He looks surprised, scared even. And he’s looking down at…Karkat. Karkat is sat on the floor, hands by his side. You notice one of them is bleeding. But he doesn’t seem to acknowledge that fact or any pain for that matter. He looks shell-shocked – his eyes are wide and pouring tears, but his facial expression is indiscernible.

You then put two and two together. The broken mirror…Karkat’s bleeding hand…his obvious state of volatility. You briskly look up at Gamzee. Anger and overall hatred narrows from your eyes.

“What the fuck did you do?”

He looks at you. But does not respond. You break.

“What the FUCK did you do!?” You’re in his face now and you’re pushing him violently. You’re so fucking close to punching the bastard.

“YOU SHOWED HIM DIDN’T YOU? YOU FUCKING RUINED HIM!” You’re pushing him even harder now; his back is against the wall. Why is this idiot not reacting? Why is he not fighting back? God! It makes you so pissed! You lift your clenched fist to hit Gamzee in the stupid fucking face, but you stop when you hear shallow breathing. You turn and look at Karkat. His breaths are labored and his face is pale.

You immediately forget about the asshole you were about to beat the shit out of. He is not important. Instead, you move to Karkat and drop down to your knees beside him. You can feel the smaller remnants of broken glass slicing through your jeans, but you ignore it in favor of trying to console Karkat. You place a hand softly on his lower back and pull his small form into an awkward side hug. You don’t even give a fuck if Gamzee is here. This is all his fault. He only made the situation worse.

You don’t even notice as Gamzee dazedly leaves the room.

==> BE THE GUY WHO IS HAVING TROUBLE BREATHING

You are now Karkat Vantas. And you remember what you look like. You are not just _white_. No. Your eyes are red. And you now realize that you do not _like_ the color _red_.

_You hate it._


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello yes. Here is Chapter Nine, finally! We put our blood, sweat, and tears into this chapter so we hope you like it!
> 
> PS: Please bear with any random formatting errors; they made themselves during the transfer from our immaculate word document to here so yes. Enjoy thoroughly.
> 
> ~Us
> 
> PSS: Claudia says howdy-do. ((...excuse the random shoutout))

**CHAPTER NINE**

_The scariest part of going insane is when you’re aware of it and no one else is._

==> KARKAT: REMEMBER. 

You are Karkat Vantas and you are albino.

==> MONTHS INTO THE PAST BUT NOT MANY…

The annoyingly loud blare of your alarm clock is demanding you to wake up. You growl at it for a second before turning it off with a heavy fist. You hear the sharp, clattering sound of metal hitting hard surface and you’re pretty sure you just broke your alarm clock. But you do not really give two fucks about that right now; it has served its purpose for the day.

Your body sluggishly slumps out of bed and you shuffle towards the bathroom, tripping over a shoe your stupid dormmate left lying on the floor. Fucking idiot. You pick it up and throw it at the form under the covers of the other bed near your own. You get a pained gurgle in response, justifying that he is in fact an idiot.

“Get up, fuckass!”

“Jeethuth, KK,” he stupidly lisps at you from under his League of Legends blanket. He groggily pokes a yellow eye out to look at the clock on his nightstand. “Shit,” he grumps as he practically lets himself fall out of bed.

“Hurry up and get dressed, you moronic bag of horse shit,” you snap at him. “I’m not gonna be fucking late to work again because of your sorry lispy ass!”

“Ughh, fuck, I’m tho tired…” He groans, rubbing his eyes and not bothering to stand up as he crawls towards the dresser on his stomach. Reaching it, he retrieves the 3D glasses that he _insists_ on wearing _every goddamn day_. You do not understand this. All you know is that it is retarded. _He_ is retarded.

“Well _maybe_ if you hadn’t stayed up through the _whole fucking_ night watching ‘THTAR TREK’–” you make a little spazzing motion with your body because that is honestly how you see Sollux in your mind’s eye: a spazzing asshole who spends way too much time in front of screens “–for the one-fucking-millionth time, you wouldn’t be so tired!”

Walking into the bathroom, you slam the door to prove your point. You make your way to the shower, grumbling unintelligible profanities. Turning on the water, you grimace a bit at the tiny cubicle you call a shower. It is small and inconvenient; your elbows are always hitting the enclosed tile walls, which is saying a lot considering how petite (you will only admit this in your mind) you actually are. But what the hell else do you expect from a scholarship paid dorm?

After you’ve showered and dressed in the clothes you left in the bathroom the night before, you brush your teeth, wash your face, and try (very unsuccessfully) to tame your wild hair. When you’re finished doing all the necessary bullshit of your routine morning, you pause for a moment to examine yourself in the mirror. You narrow your eyes – your ugly mutant red eyes – at what you see; white skin, white hair, white _everything_. And you hate it. You hate it so much. You like to pretend it doesn’t bother you—that the weird looks and rude slanders don’t get to you, don’t fucking hurt you. But God. They do.

You glare at your reflection before abruptly turning away and slamming the bathroom door open with more force than before. Sollux, who is already dressed and eating cereal, doesn’t even wince at this. Living with you for almost a year and having known you for many more, he has grown accustomed to your rather… _discordant_ ways.

You sit down next to Sollux and roughly grab the box of Honey Nut Cheerios, pouring some into your own bowl along with milk. You both eat in silence. Which is not an unusual occurrence, but…today the silence is a bit tense. You can tell something is on Sollux’s mind. He keeps looking at you from the corners of his eyes behind his glasses and biting the inside of his bottom lip, like he’s contemplating whether or not to speak. You finally decide you’ve had enough of his behavior.

“What?!” you grumble, squinting at him in question. 

His brown eyebrows lift up over his red/blue tinted shades, trying to make out like he’s genuinely confused as to what you’re inquiring. “What?”

“Don’t act like you’re not dying to say something, douchebag.”

He opens his mouth, only to close it, and then opens it again. Only to close it once more. Your left brow twitches. This seems to help him make up his mind as he sighs in remission. “Well…I wath jutht wondering if…y’know, you maybe thought about what we talked about before…about, you…” He leaves the sentence hanging, but you don’t need him to finish. You know what he’s referring to. He’s referring to about two weeks ago. When he asked you if you could try hiding your albinism, by dying your hair or wearing contacts or ‘thomething’.

Sollux has always been embarrassed by the fact that you’re different. No, not necessarily that you’re different, more that people treat you different _because_ you’re different. Understandable. You mean, who would want to be seen associating with the ‘little white demon-eyed freak’?

You swallow heavily.

You stare down into your bowl of cereal, appetite gone. Your jaw is clenched, trying to keep the rising knot in your throat at bay, and your grip is tightening around the metal spoon in your hand. You’re so sick of this. You’re so sick of people being ashamed of you. Even your friend. He can’t stand the sight of you. No one can. You don’t blame him though. How could you possibly? When you can’t stand the sight of yourself either.

You take a deep breath. This is nothing new. Don’t let it get to you.

Eyes still focused on the contents of your bowl, you reply steadily, “Sollux, I told you I didn’t want to do that. I don’t care what people think about me.” You’ve become quite great at lying over the years.

Your body jolts in surprise as Sollux abruptly stands and harshly pushes his chair back causing it to fall over. “You know what KK, I’ve tried. I’ve really fucking tried, to be kind and a friend and all that thtupid shit to you! I’ve been by your thide thince fucking high thchool! Thticking up for your dumb whitey little ath when everyone elth wath making fun of you! Do you know how much ridicule and taunting _I’ve_ had to put up with becauth of that? All I athked for wath one thmall fucking favor—for you to jutht _try_ being Goddamn normal! And you can’t even fucking do that!”

You sit there for a moment staring at him with blank eyes as he glares down at you. You’re not even shocked. You’re very aware of Sollux’s bipolarity, and these outbursts have happened more than once in the past. You’re also very aware that even if his accusations are provoked by his unstable state of mind, they are true. You know all of this. And the truth fucks you up because _you hate it_.

You slip a curt “fuck you” before getting up, throwing your bowl of barely eaten cereal into the sink, and rushing out of your stupid cramped dorm. Oh well, you need to get to work. Sollux can walk alone without you. You’re sure he’d like that anyway.

The usually fifteen minute walk to work only takes you about seven, considering how fast you’re walking today. You speed through and around people with your head down the whole way to the coffee shop. You feel even more self-conscious about yourself after your little spat with Sollux. You think, if you keep your head down so no one can see your eyes then maybe, just maybe, people will think you’re just some pale hipster kid who bleaches his hair white. Maybe.

You finally reach your place of employment, and still lost in thought, you fail to notice the larger man exiting the door as you swiftly walk to enter. You both collide and fall to the ground. Getting up quickly, and shaking your head to zone back into reality, you realize the man you bumped into is Equius. You don’t know him very well, other than the few times you’ve seen him walking around your college campus with a much smaller and excitable girl at his side.

He still seems to be a bit shocked by the collision, so you offer him your hand to help him up. He looks up at you and recognition fills his eyes. He pulls a pinched, disgusted face and _shakes your hand_ away, like it’s the most offensive, degrading piece of shit he’s ever had the unfortunate luck to come across. Using his strong legs to get up on his own with no effort whatsoever, he sneers at you, “How putrid. Do not touch me,” and then shoves past you almost sending you back down. You stumble to regain your balance as Equius disappears from your line of sight.

You take a deep breath. This is nothing new. Don’t let it get to you.

Shuffling into the shop, you make your way through the busy and chaotic atmosphere to clock in and start taking orders at the register. As you pass a couple tables, you’re aware of people staring and you swear that you hear silent snickers being thrown in your direction. You ignore them. But it’s almost impossible to ignore the distinctive, rasping voice of Terezi as you pass by her and her table group.

“Look! It’s Karcrab the unfriendly ghost!” Her obnoxious cackle rings through the entire café, soon to be joined by others who heard the joke and decided to twist the knife that was already in your chest. Metaphorically, of course. You try to tune it out as her _lips move, speaking slurs at you._ It’s like this every day. Terezi uses her loud mouth to bash you in public, and ultimately make you feel like an even bigger piece of shit than you already do.

You take a deep breath. This is nothing new. Don’t let it get to you.

Disregarding the most _unruly_ of customers,you walk behind the counter, take your work apron off of its hook, and then stand behind the register looking as unamused as you feel. Come to think of it, your boss is always chastising you about that, some shit about “scaring away the customers.” You wish you gave a fuck.

After you ring up the first few orders, you’re more than ready to leave. The day had barely just begun and you’ve already been insulted and glared at more times than you can count. It’s exhausting.

You keep your head down most of the time, only looking up to take orders and hand your clients their damned scones and shitty coffee. You’ve never really enjoyed its bitter taste and being around it for so long, every single day, you’re certain that you’ll never get used to the stuff.

You hate your job. And you hate the people who surround you at your job. But you’re glad you even have one…it’s apparently difficult for people to look past your ‘condition’ and actually hire you, so you guess you got lucky with this shithole. There’s really only one thing that helps you get through your days without going fucking postal on everyone’s ass. Well…two. But you like to pretend it’s just one, because you don’t need any more complications in your life.

Speaking of that _one_ , you spot him sauntering through the coffee shop doors. His back is lazily slouched, yet he still manages to almost hit his head against the top of the threshold—the tall fucker. His wild, black hair is all askew and longer in random areas, framing his painted face like some sort of fucking demon-lion. He’s obviously wearing the same thing he slept in, you conclude, acknowledging his purple, faded ‘Faygo’ t-shirt and his wrinkled black sweatpants. He’s a mess. A Goddamn fucking slob is what he is. Yet you’re blushing. And that exact blush reaches further across your face and up your ears when his droopy eyes light up, spotting you. You instantly frown. He smiles. Fuck him.

He looks down to his right and speaks a few words that are unintelligible to you from your distance. And that’s when you realize he did not walk in alone. Tavros is with him. He’s been Gamzee’s bestfriend since before you ever even met the crazy bastard. You kinda hate that. Come to think of it, you kinda hate Tavros. Sure he’s a nice guy, if not frustratingly always nervous and indecisive, but he pisses you off. How he’s always just _there_. With Gamzee. Can’t he just _roll his wheelchair around_ and off a cliff or something? Wow. That was a really douchey thing of you to think. You are totally not jealous. Because that would be stupid. And incredibly immature. And those are two things Karkat Vantas is definitely NOT. Obviously.

You’re still holding a rant within your mind when you feel a light touch of fingers lift up your chin. You are now looking at a closer smiling Gamzee. When the hell did he walk over here? You don’t get to further delve into the answers to that question. Not only because it was rhetoric, but also because Gamzee has just leaned over the counter and attached his lips to yours. And holy-motherfucking-nutsack, you melt into a pathetic puddle of all the stupidly strong feelings you have for this tall as fuck moron. Every time he kisses you, you’re reminded of what Woodstock would’ve been like—full of drugs and sex. And that is basically what kissing Gamzee is; the lingering odor of the weed he smoked last night before he fell asleep combined with the languorous, open-mouthed kiss he always gives you as a greeting. You think you might cry when he pulls away. But now is not the time for sloppy makeouts with your boyfriend. Sadly.

“How’re you up and doing on this miraculous morning, you little cute motherfucker?” He asks in his usual whimsical manner as his long fingers card through your hair. Your frown deepens, trying to pull off that you’re not enjoying the attention he’s giving you. Thank God he knows better.

“Shitty as ever, but that’s kind of obvious considering the rotten, maggot-eaten shit for brains that I’m forced to deal with in this sad excuse for a coffee serving establishment,” you huff.

“Aw, Karbro, you can’t let these motherfuckers get up into your head. You just gotta all motherfucking ignore the motherfuckers who be sayin’ things. They don’t understand the miracles of life,” before you can berate Gamzee about his annoying way of speaking, he continues, “like you.” And you die a bit inside. Because he’s so nice to you when you’re such an asshole. It makes you hate yourself a little more. In lack of a response, you instead make a face at him and look down, pretending to study the numbers on the register.

“Ayyyyye!” Someone shouts from one of the tables, making you look up instantly. Sollux has shuffled through the entrance, visibly bristling up from the cold outside. He beelines towards his friends, who, you realize, consist of a couple of snot-nosed nerds and the miscreant who shouted unnecessarily. You scowl at the disruption and hear Gamzee snicker in your ear.

You see Sollux go up to the table, giving them all friendly greetings and fist-bumps; obviously ignoring you for his _better_ _friends_. Your face slips into a hurt expression for only half a second. And of course your intuitive fucker of a boyfriend catches it, stopping his snickering.

"Y'all get up into another fight?” Gamzee asks lightly.

Your eyebrows knit together as you look back up at Gamzee. “Fuck him,” is all you say and you leave it at that. He lifts one of the corners of his mouth, in an almost smirk, and leans down to kiss where your eyebrows are still narrowed, relaxing them back into place.

“Fuck him,” he confirms. “’Cause I’ll always be the motherfucker that’s there for you.”

He’s smiling down at you—that fucking smile that kills you with how perfect it is and how much you really really really like Gamzee and how it makes you feel and—

“And Dave.”

His smile drops before you can even finish saying his name. Before you even realize you’re _saying_ his name. Because of course, you being the fucked up person that you are had to bring _him_ up. Why did you even say that? What in the ever unloving hell is your issue?

"I-I mean…yeah, I know. I know you’ll always be there for me,” you try to cover your slip-up. You’re looking him straight in the eye, because you want him to understand that you mean it. You know he’ll be there—always—for you.

His previously tightened jaw loosens again, but as you continue to stare into each other’s eyes you can see he’s still peeved; his pupils are dilated, showing only a thin line of indigo surrounding. You look at him hopelessly, yet _hoping_ that he’ll realize how much he means to you—Dave or no Dave.

“Heeeeeeeey, Makara,” you hear someone drawl out incitingly. Both of your eyes snap away from each other and go to focus on the most _unpleasant_ of interruptions (well, at least to you). Of course, it’s none other than Vriska Serket inappropriately smirking at your boyfriend, whose face unnoticeably tightens once again. She leans against the counter, tilting her head obnoxiously, to get a better look at him. “Coming to my party tonight?” She makes it a point to ignore you.

You uncomfortably shift from foot to foot. _Why does she have to be so close?_

“Uh, well,” Gamzee stutters. He briefly nods his head in your direction. “I’ll go only if my special motherfucker here can come.” And with a lazy smile, that was the extent of his response.

Your face fucking heats up at the incredibly annoying sight of Vriska dramatically rolling her eyes and groaning, as if your very presence at her stupid party would be the worst thing to happen to her. “You’re kidding me, right? You want me to invite _this_ freak?” she rudely juts her thumb in your direction, still not sparing you a glance.

Gamzee’s face deadpans. His nostrils visibly flare and his lips tighten as he stares Vriska straight in the eyes.

 _Oh shit_.

“Now you up and listen here, _bitch_. Ain’t no motherfuckers allowed to talk about Karkat in that sort of way. Just ‘cause he’s different doesn’t mean he’s not a better person than you’ll ever motherfucking be. And next time I hear you, _or anyone for that matter,_ speaking shit like that about my Karbro, I’ll make a motherfucker wish they hadn’t. Y’hear me, Serket?”

She scoffs and lets out a snort of disbelief. “Why you choose to lower yourself to such pathetic standards, I will _neeeeeeeever_ understand. But whatever…you can drag the doughboy along. Just don’t be late, Makara… Well, on second thought,” she lets her cold, blue eyes fleetingly glance at you in disgust before looking back at Gamzee, “take your time.” Turning around with a sneer thrown in your direction, she walks away _flicking her hair at you._

As soon as you see her ass walk out of the coffee shop, you grumble, “I’m not going to her damned party.” You look down and busy your hands with stacking and restacking the coffee cups near your station; unnecessary bullshit, but anything to distract yourself from the previous encounter.

“Listen Kar, I don’t like her either—bitch is all up and discombobulated in the motherfucking thinkpan or some shit—” you find yourself making a small grunt in agreement, head still down “—but we should still go, just to up and eat the bitchtits out of her food.” 

“No.”

“C’mon, Karbro,” he whines, leaning in closer towards your face. “We can leave early and go back to my place…” he lets the sentence suggestively linger in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. And fuck if you will ever admit to actually thinking over his offer.

You look up at him and open your mouth, ready to _righteously_ tell him _hell-fucking-no_ you will _not_ go to Vriska’s stupid fucking party. Go for what? So that Gamzee can choose the free drugs over you and leave you to fend for yourself in a house full of people who wouldn’t want to talk you anyway? Or worse yet, so you can hold Gamzee back from actually having a good time?

Nope. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

You’re totally ready to shoot him down too, that is, until you actually speak, “...you promise we'll leave early?” Fuck. Why couldn’t you just say no?

He smiles like a huge dope at you, content with your response. “Motherfucking yeah—I swear it, brother!” His grin suddenly smooths down into a sultry smirk before he leans down, lips so close to touching the shell of your ear. “I promise you’ll have fun...and then we can go home and have our own kinda _fun_... _karbabe_ ,” his deep voice purrs the last word. Jesus fucking Christ. He knows how it gets to you when he calls you that...even if you pretend it annoys you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Gamzee,” you breathe as you cover your face with your hands. He tilts his head down and chuckles against your neck, kissing it sweetly. The heat of his breath against your skin does not help to quell your titillated blush at all. Sighing, you move a hand to run through his voluminous hair and bring it to the side of his head, gently lifting it so that you’re looking at his face again—he leans against your touch.

“Ugh, get a room,” you both are suddenly startled by Sollux’s scolding voice as he makes his way to his working area behind the counter.Gamzee briefly looks over at him, narrowing his eyes, before he squares them back on you and smiles softly. He breathes a short laugh through his nose and straightens up from leaning towards you over the counter.

“Well, I guess I should up and get on my way to the studio. M’workin’ on another big painting, so I need all the time I can get to make it motherfucking miraculous,” his eyes noticeably light up at the mention of his art work. That’s one of your favorite things about Gamzee—how passionate he gets when it comes to the things he loves, namely his art. It’s honestly what attracted you to him in the first place; you wanted him to look at _you_ like you were his own work of art.

“W-well then get going, fuckass,” you try to grouse at him but it ends up sounding pathetic thanks to your stutter, because _shit_ you’re still blushing.

“Alright, I’m goin’, I’m goin’...but not before this,” he dips over the counter again and claims your lips in a sloppy and inappropriate-as-fuck kiss. You know he’s overdoing it just to piss off Sollux, and you love it. Finally after basically making-out with your boyfriend (on the fucking job) he ends the kiss. “Pick you up at nine tonight,” he informs you with a wink and then turns to leave.

You watch him as he makes his way to the the glass doors of the cafe. Just as he’s about to exit, you notice someone else enter and obstruct his way. Gamzee visibly bristles in reaction to whoever it is. And when he moves to the side, you see it’s none other than Dave. Of course.

They are slow in passing each other as they stare at one another challengingly. Gamzee turns his head to follow Dave in, allowing you to see the twitch of his upper lip and his eyebrows scrunched together. Dave’s face remains impassive as he gets his shoulder rammed into by the taller male. His only acknowledgment of Gamzee is an _ironic_ two-fingered salute thrown in the direction of his retreating back.

You focus on Dave now, as he slowly makes his way to where you’re standing behind the register. _God-fucking-damn it,_ you are _not_ in the mood for him right now so you look away and try to busy yourself with the spare supplies in the plastic bags that litter the underside of the counter before you. Doing so also gives the impression that you may actually be working and are not to be disturbed. You take out a couple of plastic cups and set them on the counter above your head, risking a glance over it to see Dave, now much closer than he was before, leaning down against the counter with a fist under his chin. His dark sunglasses are perched comfortably on his nose and it annoys you, _the cheeky ass motherfucker_.

He sees you, crouched awkwardly as you are, and smirks. “Well, you’re looking as lovely as a fucking spring flower today, Karkitten,” he picks up the pen you keep by the register, playing with it, “...and I see Princess Gam-Gam is doing peachy as usual.”

You sigh heavily before standing back up and glaring at him. “Shut up, Strider. You know you piss him off."

He stops and points the end of the pen at you. “Only ‘cause he knows you want some of this hella fine D. Strider.”

You let out a flustered huff. Because seriously, how are you even supposed to respond to that?

“Oh no, I forgot,” he picks up an empty cup and starts writing on it. “I know we can’t speak of our forbidden love out here in public but…” Dave hands you back the cup, continuing, “Here is a token of my love that you shall cherish until our next secret _rendezvous_.”

You snatch the cup out of his hand roughly and look at it. In Dave’s ugly scrawl, it reads _Dave + Karkat = Babies_. You feel your entire face heat up in a stupidly uncontrollable blush. “The only thing that should be forbidden here is your stupidity!”

“Save the dirty talk for the honeymoon, babe,” he suggests, as you absentmindedly notice him resume to rearrange the other supplies on the counter.

“Are you going to buy some shitty coffee or did you just walk in here to make my ears bleed with all the bullshitlery that you constantly _insist_ on drowning me in?”

“Both is good,” you think he winked. “But yeah, I could go for a tall white chocolate mocha.”

“‘ _Tall white chocolate mocha.’_ Could you be anymore fucking pretentious?” you grumble as you snatch the pen out of his hand so you can write his name and order on a cup. He quirks an eyebrow at you with his dumb, attractive poker face before turning away and walking to the table where Terezi is seated. Asshole didn’t even pay.

You stare after him for a few seconds before shaking your head and ‘forgetting’ to input his order in the computer. You’ve honestly lost count of the times you’ve let Dave get away with free coffee. And you should really look into not being such a goddamn pushover.

You're about to re-stack all of the scattered cups that Strider was messing with until you notice the writing. You pick one up and it has your name on it. _All of them_ have your name. A growl rises up your throat as you shout at the nimrod casually sitting across the room, “STRIDER!”

“Sup,” he says simply, jerking his chin up in your direction before turning back to the conversation he was having at his table. He pisses you off so much. And fuck, do you wish you could hate him. Heaven knows you’ve tried. But there’s always been _something_ about Dave… _something_ that you try not to think about.

Once you’ve finished making Strider’s coffee, you tread through the aisles of tables to go hand it to the douchebag. You would’ve asked Sollux to do it, but you don’t exactly feel comfortable speaking with him at the moment. As you make your way to Dave, you trip over someone’s foot and try to hide your wince as the same person’s _leg kicks you to the ground._ The coffee cup you were once holding has spilt all over your shirt and the floor. You look up and— _oh,_ Ampora. You’re not surprised.

“Watch where you’re goin’, Kar,” his stupid accent chides.

You strain to ignore the surrounding laughter as you attempt to hastily stand back up...only to trip again, but on spilt coffee this time. The laughter around you grows more boisterous and you feel like such a pathetic joke. You can feel some stubborn tears trying to make their way out of your eyes. You will not let them see you cry though. They already think you’re weak. You refuse to prove them right.

You take a deep breath. This is nothing new. Don’t let it get to you.

==> BE DAVE.

Your name is Dave Strider and you are in love with Karkat Vantas.

So, of course, watching the entire coffee shop, _including your friends_ , laugh at his humiliation is afflicting you more than you wish it could. You turn your head from side to side scrunching your eyebrows in disbelief at everyone around you. You don’t get how people could be so cruel.

You spot Terezi next to you, face red with laughter. “What the fuck, Tez? It’s not funny,” you attempt to scold her.

“Lighten up, cool kid! How can you _not_ laugh? Look at how retarded he looks,” she brushes you off, trying to speak between snorts. Well. You know who you don’t want to be friends with anymore.

“This is fucked up,” you say, getting up out of your seat to help Karkat. You stride over to him and crouch down. He recoils and looks up startled when he feels you place a hand on his back. His eyes are glazed over with unshed tears and _shit please don’t cry._

“Come on, Kitkat. Let’s get you out of here,” you murmur, gingerly helping him up. As you walk towards the exit doors, you ignore everyone’s shouts and groans of disapproval. If they want entertainment they can go on fucking YouTube. Or go fuck themselves. Either/or, really.

Once you’ve made it outside, you lead Karkat towards a bench. You’re surprised and kind of confused when he pushes away from you. You mean, really? No ‘thank you’ smooch? No running off into the sunset? What is this. Disney lied.

“You didn’t have to fucking save me! I was perfectly capable of handling it myself,” he hisses at you, distracting any further thought-ramble from continuing in your head. You raise a single brow and continue to stare at him as he sits down on the bench and tries to scrub at his wet shirt with a napkin he took out of his pocket. “...Now I’m gonna smell like shitty, pretentious coffee…” you hear him grumble under his breath, and you can’t help but let out a snort of amusement.

You move to sit next to him before replying, “yeah, well, you looked like you needed some saving. And a gallant hero, such as myself, couldn’t have possibly left a damsel in distress, such as yourself, to fend off such villainous evil all on your own, y’know?”

You don’t realize he’s staring at you until you turn to look at him after a while of getting no response. His face is blank other than a slight twitch of an eyebrow. You counter him with your own poker face. His eyes tighten slightly, still looking at you almost expectantly. But you guess he isn’t satisfied with what he sees because he gives up, looking away and sighing heavily into his seat.

“I’m not completely helpless, you know?”

You know. “I know.”

He turns to face you again. “No, Dave, I don’t think you really do know. I literally deal with this kind of shit everyday. And that’s just it— _I deal with it_. The insults, the name-calling, the  reminders that _I’m **not** normal_—it’s practically, no not practically, it _is_ a part of my life. So, no, Dave. You _don’t_ know,” he informs you. He doesn’t bark it, or yell it, or screech it at your face. _He informs you._ Like he’s teaching you a fucking overt fact of life. Like he deserves it.

You feel sick.

You sit there for a moment, thinking about what he just said. You examine his eyes behind your aviators—eyes that are so familiar with their bright red hue and stark white lashes. You think about how fucking brave he is. And how you wish you were that brave.

“You’re right,” you begin, voice steady, “I don’t know.” Karkat’s head tilts to the side a bit and his eyebrows narrow in slight confusion. “I don’t know because I’m a fucking scared as shit pussy.”

“Wha—” he goes to speak, but cuts himself off when you remove your shades. _And oh shit you just did that_. “Dave…” Karkat breathes and it almost sounds like he’s scared. His eyes are wide and you can’t tell if it’s sympathy, disappointment, or just plain pity that he’s feeling towards you right now.

Your lips roll inwards before you let out a breath to continue speaking. “I don’t know what it’s like to be constantly put down because of what I look like...but I do know what it’s like to live with the fact that you’re not the same as everyone else. _I get it_. I get that internal struggle. So when I look at you, and I see that you don’t try to hide what you look like...it gets me wishing that I could be half as strong as you, Karkat.” You look him earnestly in the eyes, because you really want him to understand.

He opens his mouth and doesn’t say anything, just kind of stares at you like he’s looking for something. His staring, topped with the fact that you’re not wearing your sunglasses, makes you feel incredibly vulnerable, a feeling you work to avoid daily.

When he finally does something, he doesn’t speak, but instead pulls you into a tight hug. You’re confused for a moment, because you were really not expecting this reaction. But before you know it, your arms are also around him, bringing him in closer. His smaller body against yours feels so warm and right and Jesus-fucking-christ you love him so much and you wish you could tell him and you’re about to until—

“Karkat! Get back in here! In cathe you forgot, it’th altho _your_ shift!”

Fucking Sollux.

You’re facing away from the door (thank God), so you quickly place your shades back on before anyone else can see your red eyes. Karkat looks up at the ‘little lisper who could’ before rolling his eyes and snarking back, “Whatever. I’ll be in there in a minute.” Sollux narrows his eyes for a moment before turning to go back inside.

Karkat pulls away from your embrace and you hesitate to let go, but you realize it may come off as creepy if you don’t. So, with great reluctance, you unravel your arms from around him and scoot over a bit to give him space.

“Uh. I guess you should head back inside. Don’t wanna get you in trouble or anything…” you mumble, and you feel _really_ awkward about yourself right now.

“Yeah, I need to get back to work before Mr. Lisps-a-lot has a fucking aneurism,” he grunts as you both stand up. You snicker at the disgruntled look on his face. You know he’s feeling better if he can conjure up that spit-fire feistiness that you find so fucking charming.

 “Sooo, I guess I won’t be seeing you at Vriska’s little _fiesta_ tonight…” you let the sentence linger on as a question.

“ _Unfortunately_ , I’ll actually be there,” he says flatly, rolling his eyes. You’re glad he can’t see your own eyes light up behind your shades at the prospect of seeing him again tonight. “I’m going with Gamzee. The idiot said he wouldn’t go unless I went with him.” And that is when you once again are reminded that Karkat is in a relationship with the one guy you can honestly say you hate. This reality always hits you hard, but the fact that a few minutes ago you were so close to confessing your feelings to him makes this realization hurt tenfold.

“Oh.” And that is the extent of your response.

Karkat just looks at you and bites his bottom lip, and for a moment you think he’s on to you. “Yeah...so I’ll see you later, I guess,” he finally speaks. With a little wave in your direction, he turns to walk inside.

“Yeah...see you,” you faintly reply to his retreating back. He doesn’t hear you.

==> BE KARKAT.

HOURS INTO THE FUTURE BUT NOT MANY…

“I can’t believe I actually let you drag me to this dick crimping party,” you growl under your breath as Gamzee leads you by the hand through the crowd of overly testosteroned and hormonal college kids getting shit-faced drunk. You can feel their criticizing eyes and their disapproving whispers follow everywhere Gamzee drags you. You don’t think you’re welcome, and you feel pretty uncomfortable to say the least.

“Aw c’mon, Kar. We just up and got here, you might actually motherfucking enjoy yourself,” he responds while pulling you to sit on a couch in the far side of the living room where most of the party is taking place. The music is loud and obnoxious, the air smells like piss and alcohol, the girls are scantily clothed and the guys are dressed like the stereotypical tool, and you really, _really_ , do not think you’ll be enjoying yourself at _any_ point in time tonight—at least not here.

You don’t feel like socializing with anyone and you’re pretty damn sure no one wants to be within five feet of you. So you basically sit on the couch next to Gamzee, awkwardly sipping some water for a whole waste of an hour, watching as everyone else around you has fun making asses of themselves.

Gamzee pulled out his weed not too long after arriving and the heavy smell is kind of pissing you off. You honestly wish his cheap drugs would have the same affect on you that they obviously have on him, but all they ever do is make your eyes itchy and your throat dry.

You can tell the drugs are getting to him when you have to start warding off his wandering hands and yell at him to stop trying to make-out with you. You’re not going to lie, you usually enjoy the sort of aphrodisiac effect weed gives Gamzee. And trust you...you have definitely taken advantage of it in the past; much more times than you could admit without developing a red face. But he doesn’t seem to understand that being surrounded by people who are constantly sending dirty looks in your direction, kind of makes you not want to participate in any PDA. Not in front of _them_ , thank you very much.

You slouch into your seat, sighing. Because wow this is such a bullshit way to spend your night. Why you ever agreed to come, you’ll never understand. You silently send a ‘fuck you’ to Past Karkat. What an idiot, thinking you’d be fine at a college party— _Vriska Serket’s_ party nonetheless. You sigh again, this time more dramatically, hoping that maybe your already stoned-as-fuck boyfriend will get the message that you want to leave. He seems to have noticed your not-so-subtle show of annoyance because he’s turned his head to look at you questioningly.

“What’s up, Kar?”

You don’t know whether you want to slap him for being so dense or kiss him for being so fucking adorably confused. You opt for neither. “You said we would leave early. It’s early. Let’s leave,” you grouse at him.

Gamzee’s eyebrows knit together and he makes a little ‘o’ shape with his mouth, looking as lost as ever. He stays like that for a while and you just stare back at him with the most unamused facial expression you can conjure. Which really isn’t that difficult of a task. Suddenly his face loosens and he’s back to smiling that lazy, nonsensical grin at you. You’re about to repeat yourself, a bit more aggressively this time, before he cuts in with a guttural laugh. “Naw, Karbro,” his eyes glaze over and you know he’s at the peak of his high, “y’all gotta up and get your motherfucking relax on. Ain’t no wonder a motherfucker is so bitchin’ uptight. No fuckin’ worries though, brother, I got just the motherfucking magic you need…”

You raise a brow as you watch him rummage a hand through his pockets. What the fuck is he doing?

Before you know it, Gamzee is shoving a plastic bag containing what looks like a single sugarcube towards you. You’re instantly confused. Does he really think _a fucking sugarcube_ is going to help you have a better time at this shitty party? The idiot really must be high. “What the fuck, Gamzee?”

“No, no, Karbro, you don’t motherfucking get it. This wicked shit’ll make you feel like the most miraculous of motherfuckers,” he slurs and pushes the bag closer to you.

“What the hell is that, Gamzee?! Get it out of my face!” you bark at him, shoving the gross plastic bag away. What the actual fuck is up with him?

The corners of his already smiling lips pull up even more. “It’s Yellow Sunshine; motherfuckin’ Looney Toons, brother,” he laughs again like you just asked the most absurd question and the answer to it should have been obvious. This is around the same time you start to get the feeling it’s not any ordinary sugarcube in that bag.

==>DAVE: LOITER NEAR THE KITCHEN.

You, Dave Strider, are standing in a doorway like an awkward taco in a busy Chinese restaurant. You don’t know where to go, or who to talk with, but at least you are very, very _es_ - _spicy_. You aren’t really sure how that helps but it’s a fact that you look hot tonight. And facts are like science. And science is truth. _Preach it_ , you think, taking a nonchalant sip of your apple juice which you’ve cleverly poured into a red solo cup to give the impression you are drinking. Ha, who would actually _drink_ at this stupid party?

You ironically bob your head along to the terrible music, trying your hardest to look busy on your phone. Although, you glance up frequently because where you're standing has the most convenient view of the front door. You'd hate to admit you're waiting for a _certain someone_ to arrive but yeah, let's be real, you're _totally_ waiting for Karkat.

When you finally spot him, he’s being dragged through the front door by his freaky juggalo boyfriend. From your distance, you can tell Karkat is grouching at Gamzee about something, and you let yourself smirk for a moment. _Give him hell,_ you think to yourself. But your amusement is quickly washed away as your eyes zone in on their joined hands. You automatically divert your gaze and suck in a large amount of breath before letting it out.

Wow _,_ the _idea_ of them being together was nothing compared to actually _seeing_ them together. They'd do stupid "boyfriend-o" things like hold hands and snuggle together on the couch, while all _you_ do is watch Gamzee isolate Karkat and get all buzzed and whisper to him and start to grope him and make out with him and—

You squeeze the cup in your hand a little tighter and swallow.

Once unsure of how to spend your fantastic time at this party, you finally decide to stay sober (unfortunately) and pretty much just watch them while seething in your jealousy. Gamzee didn't _deserve_ Karkat. He's never treated him right—hell if he's even _aware_ half of the time he's with Karkat and not high and irrational like always. Come to think of it, though, you've never actually "experienced" Gamzee sober. You snort. Fucking clown.

So, here you’ve been, hovering around the same area for about an hour now. Aaaaand, basically you’re stalking Karkat. Wow. You can quite honestly admit to yourself how pathetic you’ve become at this point. _Like Jesus fuck bro_ , there is a crush and then there is an _obsession_. You mean, you’re not like creepy old man next door with a fetish for cute little boys in a skirt type obsession or nothing. But damn son, you need to get your life together, which you contemplate for a moment...before going back to sneaking glances in _Gamkar’s_ direction. In a very non-obvious and cool way, of course. So low-profile. Shit be inconspicuous as a James Bond. Well...more like Austin Powers, in your case.

Sudden movement on the couch catches your attention and when you focus, Karkat is very animatedly speaking with his hands at Gamzee, who shakes his head and smiles. You see him pull something out and hand it to the little Grouch. Ew, anything that is in a wrinkly, old plastic bag in Gamzee’s pocket is probably not good for _anyone_. But when you zero in on its contents, you freeze.

 _What is that?_ _Why would that clown give him that? Karkat isn’t really going to take that fucking thing, is he?_

You notice Karkat’s eyebrows furrow in curiosity as he reaches his hand out towards the bag.

NO. NOPE. NOT TODAY, SON.

You march your Strider-self right up to them and tower over their sitting bodies in a very fucking authoritative manner, if you do say so yourself. “Uhhhhh, what’s this,” you quip, flicking the bag dangling in Gamzee’s hand. He turns to you and it takes the brain-fart a moment to realize who you are before he frowns and moves his hand away from you. Karkat merely looks between the two of you, slightly amused and slightly annoyed.

“It’s what’s gonna make _my_ Karbro feel motherfucking wicked.” You hide your wince at his use of personal pronouns when referring to Karkat.

“So basically you’re giving him drugs,” you deadpan.

He glares at you before slurring, “...mother _fuck_ off.” How profound. This guy right here is the next winner of the Nobel Prize. Ain’t no Barbara Parks or Charles Dickens got shit on this guy. True man of words, he is.

That still doesn’t mean you’re backing off, prodigy of words or not.

“Nope.” See, you can be profound too.

“Fuckin’ go awaaay,” he grouches back at you like a little child and it takes so much effort on your part not to laugh. Well, you’re not making much headway with the clown, so you turn to look at Karkat.

“Karkat. You aren’t going to take this shit,” you declare with the finality of a stern father. Bro would be proud.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what to do?” he fumes. And, ouch. _Who are you?_ Well okay then.

“Dude. Don’t be a dumbass. You can’t handle whatever the fuck is in that sleazy bag—” And you realize you’ve probably said the wrong thing when you see Karkat’s eyes tighten and his narrowed eyebrows twitch in anger.

“I can do whatever the fucking _shit_ I want, Strider!” He barks at you and reaches to snatch the plastic bag out of Gamzee’s hands. Before you can even get another word in, he’s already shoved his hand into the bag and stuffed the “sugarcube” into his mouth defiantly.

You open your lips to retort, but looking down at his indignant face, you know it’s a worthless effort. “You know what, fuck it. Do what you want, Karkat,” you sigh in disappointment. Whether it’s disappointment at Karkat, you, or even Gamzee, you don’t know. Usually you wouldn’t give up so quickly, but dealing with them together is emotionally draining and you honestly don’t feel like you can take it anymore.

You decide not to dwell on it as you walk away from them, getting lost in the crowd.

==> KARKAT: DO WHAT YOU WANT.

At first, nothing happens and the feeling is a mixed one. On one hand you really, _really_ want the drug to have an effect on you...but on the other, you’re kind of afraid of what those effects might be. So you just get comfortable next to Gamzee and let whatever the fuck you just consumed do whatever the fuck it will.

Time passes and you gradually begin to feel light headed and hazy. You’re not sure how long it’s been since you ate the sugarcube, but it feels like each minute that goes by is longer than the next.

Slowly you start to feel weird...somehow disconnected. Your body feels light...like you have no body. Like you are here but not here at the same time. Time. Time has no meaning. Your consciousness is outside of time. Yet, you can hear it. _Tick, tick, tick, tick…_ The sound surrounds youand now you can seeit—you can _see_ time. It’s in the air and it’s swirling around like a whirlpool. There are strange symbols coming in and out of the atmosphere and you don’t know what they mean so you laugh at them. They leave different colored sparks as they all suddenly disappear at once.

You look to your side and see Gamzee is no longer next to you. When did he leave? Where did he go? Who were you looking for again? Was it that floating figure on the ceiling? No, you don’t think it was. But you think you’re going to stare at it for a little while. It’s now twisting and vibrating around the room, expanding until _it is_ the room.

You’re now looking out into the crowd of people. People? Oh. Yeah. You’re at a party. You laugh again, this time at your silliness. Dragging your eyes around the room, you notice everyone looks a little strange. They have long, sharp orange horns growing out of their heads. And their skin...is grey. And their teeth...are pointed. Then again, this isn’t all too strange. Actually, you think this is what they always looked like. You think they look better this way. You giggle because there you go again, being silly.

“Hey, Karkat.” You hear a voice and it sounds like it’s coming from every direction in different pitches and waves. You disregard the idea of finding who or what it came from, and instead follow the rifts and ruffles the sound creates in the air. It’s bouncing against the walls in slow motion and causing your body to sway along with it.

“Karkaaaat,” you hear again in various echoed whispers. This time you actually turn your head to look for the voice. And there are people. They are standing in front of you but you can’t make out their faces. You can’t make out anything actually. They’re all black, black figures. Although...familiar black figures. And the next voices that speak are quite familiar also.

“Aww, look at him.”

“Is he high?”

“Hahah, oh my God, I think he is.”

You hear whispers and cackles of laughter around you. You keep turning your head from left to right, not exactly sure who is saying what.

“Hey, Kar, you should come with us. We wanna show you somethin’.”

Huh. You don’t get it. What do they want? Maybe you should ask them. “Whaaa...hahah...heh,” wait, what were you going to say?

“Yeah, Karcrab, come with us. We’ll show you a good time for sure, buddy!” This voice breaks out into laughter along with the others and you join in. They must be laughing at the swirling colored flowers in the sky. Yeah, you think those are great.

You’re not aware that you’re standing until you feel yourself moving. There’s an arm around your waist leading you towards some sort of churning portal. And the voices are still surrounding you, following you. You realize the portal is actually a door once you’ve gotten closer. Hm. Where are these dark figures taking you? You hope it’s somewhere fun, with more swirling colors.

The figures lead you through the door. And everything is dark. You can’t even see the black figures anymore, but you can _feel_ them. You’re confused. Why did they bring you here? You don’t understand how this is fun.

“Lock the door,” someone whispers behind you.

“Lock the...door?” you croak. You hear a slam and then a click. And then you’re being pushed down. You land on something soft and bouncy and it takes you a few seconds to realize you are now on a bed. It takes you a little longer to also realize that the figures around you have tied you down. You try moving your arms and legs out of their restraints, but your body is incredibly weak at the moment.

You don’t know what’s going on and now you’re starting to get scared as the figures loom over you.

“It’s time you learn your place in the world, _Kittykat_.”

==> BE GAMZEE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THIS CHAPTER

Your name is Gamzee Makara and you have no idea where the motherfuck your boyfriend is. You kind of lost him after your large intake of the miraculous pot you brought with you. But now you’re thinking it wasn’t so motherfucking miraculous if it caused you to lose track of your Karbro. Maybe the little miracle went home without you. You frown a bit at that. You don’t like the idea of him wandering around on his own. So you quickly make a decision to go look for him. Before you go though, you definitely need a miracle weed reboot, so you rummage in your pocket to find your stash.

But. You can’t find it. Motherfuck.

You look up disappointedly and the number of bodies jumping and moving around so quickly makes you feel sick. Scanning them, Karkat is nowhere to be seen and you’re now starting to panic. You move to start searching around the house, but before you can get two steps in you’re stopped by a stupid white monkey. Motherfucking Strider.

“Yo. Where’s Vant-ass?”

You give him your best glare and push him aside. Ain’t nobody got time for motherfucking assholes. But of course, he follows you. And when he grabs you by the shoulder you have to do everything not to flip him over a table. “Back the fuck up,” you snarl at him and jesus-motherfucking-messiahs his blank expression is pissing you off.

“Yeah, uh, no. Where is he?” You’ll rip that raised eyebrow off his face.

“I don’t think that’s any of your motherfucking concern,” you growl. The combination of Dave’s annoying existence and the fact that you don’t know where the hell Karkat is, is most definitely helping to sober you.

“The fuck it’s not,” he counters. And you’re really getting sick of Dave always getting in the middle of things that have to do with Karkat.

“You don’t mean NOTHING to him so get the _MOTHERFUCK_ OUT OF MY FACE,” you forcefully push him back. He barely stumbles before regaining his step and you silently curse his being.

“Don’t tell me you fucking lost him...because I swear on your spot in Hell, if _you_ lost him while he’s on the drugs that _you_ gave him I’ll—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he’s saying as an overwhelming sense of dread comes over you. Because you just remembered that you gave Karkat your drugs. And not just any motherfucking drugs. Your dumb bitch ass gave him LSD.

_Shit._

==> BE KARKAT AGAIN.

“Ple...please, noooo,” you wail in agony. You’re crying and what they’re doing to you hurts so much.

“Shut the fuck up!” One of the dark figures slaps you really hard and now the side of your face stings.

There are so many hands on you—so so _so_ many hands. Touching your body, making you touch their bodies, grabbing you, hitting you, scratching you, pulling your hair out, shoving things into you. Treating you like a—

“Whore!” One of the black figures bellows above you and it hurts your ears, “You’re just a stupid whore!”

“That’s all he’s ever been good for, only good for being an obedient little slut!” The voices burst into uncontrollable laughter. As you burst into uncontrollable tears. Because their words hurt so much more than the things they’re doing to you. The things they’re putting into you. Their words only confirm how tainted you are; you will _never_ be dirt free.

“Oh shit I think he’s actually enjoying this! Are you getting off on this, Karcrab? Damn, you really are a fucking cheap whore.”

No. You want to tell them no, you do not like this. But all you manage is a weak, dry sob. And they slap you again for it. Apparently that wasn’t the answer they wanted.

Everything aches and burns and you feel like you’re going to vomit at any moment. You thought after a while the pain would become numb, or at least a dull throb. But it hasn’t. It just keeps hurting more and more and more. You want to call out for help but no one will hear and no one will care. So you just let them do with your body as they please. Because you’re fucking weak and worthless. All you can do is lay there as these faceless figures use you before you finally blackout from the excruciating pain.

==> KARKAT: WAKE UP.

You open your eyes and you’re alone.  The walls are moving slightly and you aren’t but when you do, it hurts. You’re lying on a bed, you duly note. You let your tired eyes slowly wander around the dark room you’re apparently in. They ache like you’ve been crying and for a moment you are confused. Yes, you are very confused until you move to rub at them and notice a dark ring around your wrist. You go to feel it with your other hand only to realize that this one also has the same ring. And they hurt, they burn, etched into your skin.

And now you’re scared.

Every sound is amplified around you and it’s only helping to worsen your pulsing headache. The thumping of the music outside the room door is in sync with the throbbing you feel in the center of your forehead. You can hear the AC whistling through a vent somewhere in the house, crisping the stale air surrounding you, making you feel so uncomfortable. You catch the sounds of people talking, laughing, _moving_. It's muffled but you can hear it _so clearly._ It’s all happening outside the room you're in. And it’s driving you insane and scrambling your thoughts.

 _It's so **loud**_.

You swiftly sit up and it feels like the weight of the room is being balanced on your brain. You feel dizzy, the room is twisting around you, and you sway a bit as you scurry to stand up, only to end up tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. What you feel of your body is so sore. Your breathing is starting to escalate and your head begins to pound with the onslaught of memories—no, nightmares. Nightmares of what you are sure happened merely hours ago, if not less. The ghost of pain enveloping your entire body is only further proof of what they did to you.

Your heart is starting to race and your shallow breaths are scraping against your throat harshly as you realize your situation and what just happened to you and— _oh God, oh God, oh God._

Hastily, you will yourself off the ground and try to stay up on shaky legs. They feel like jello. You almost collapse again, but you manage to hold yourself up against the wall in front of you. Your body leans against the cold, white surface as a support. But this support is doing nothing to help control the sanity you can practically feel being ripped away from you.

A wave of fear washes through you—choking you. You feel _dirty._ You don’t even _dare_ to look down at your body. You’re afraid of what you’ll find.

Your eyes rapidly dart around the room in panic—looking for something, _anything_. But you don’t know what you’re looking for or why you need it. You don’t know. You don’t know what you’re doing until you feel the sharp, smooth metal in your hand; a knife. And you don’t know _how_ it ended up in your hand or how _you_ ended up halfway across the room but here you are.

The door swings open slowly, almost on its own. The darkness of the hallway greets you, along with the yellow haze that shines against the furthest wall. It's coming from the main room of the party at the end of the hallway, you know.

You are slowly making your way towards the room. Your legs are still shaking, yet each step you take is _very_ precise. You _know_ where you’re going. You _know_ what you’re doing. And you definitely _know_ that knocking down the big music speakers will get everyone’s attention. So you do.

“What the fuck?” Someone exclaims. Everyone is sending you dirty looks.

A white hot anger pierces through you, boiling under your skin, making the tips of your fingers and toes start to tingle and—

You take a deep breath. This is nothing new. Don’t let it get to you. But it’s fucking getting to you. It’s getting to you so bad right now as you look at _their_ faces. And you can’t do anything to stop this overwhelming feeling of nausea over the fact that you hate who you are. You hate how you’re treated. You hate what they did to you. You hate them. YOU HATE THEM. “I hate you!” you scream quite pathetically as you finally allow yourself to cry for the first time since you’ve woken up.

You choke out a heavy sob, the most retching sound you’ve ever heard yourself make. Your body sways with your harsh breathing and you can’t see behind the pools of tears collecting in your eyes. You are so _disgusted_. You want to puke. You want to yell. You want to pull your hair out and break things and cry and cry and fucking **cry**! You can’t take this feeling—it’s pushing its way up your throat, making you feel sick.

“K…Karkat?”

Your eyes languidly move up to the voice. It’s Gamzee. He’s standing towards the middle of the room, head slightly cocked to the side. He looks so confused.

“What’s wrong, Karbro?” Now he just looks worried.

You inhale—it ends up sounding more like another sob than anything else—and your face crumples almost painfully as you look at your boyfriend’s wide eyes. You don’t want to tell him. You don’t want him to know. He _can’t_ know. You’re embarrassed. Yet, just looking at him, you can barely do anything to stop the volley of tears that come streaming down your face.

“They…Gamzee, they, they hurt me,” you whisper, because you feel doing so will make it less real. He squints his eyes, confused.

You involuntarily recall the past events and, staring into Gamzee’s concerned eyes as the memories flash before your own, your chest tightens and you feel whatever was still intact within you break.

“They fucking HURT ME!”

You inhale again, sharply. You’re forced to stop for a moment. Your whole body wracks with the weight of all the mental and emotional pain that’s been piling up for much too long now. Gamzee slowly starts to move forward, towards you. You close your eyes tight and then open them again. They glaze over with the fear of fully accepting what you are about to admit. “They raped me,” you say. He halts in his steps. And it is with the fear still permanently etched in your eyes that you turn away from Gamzee and look at _them_. They are all in this room. You didn’t think you’d remember who did it and who was there but here and now you stare at those you’re a hundred percent sure are responsible. Every single one of them. They are all in this room.

You only acknowledge that you’re slowly stepping forward because it is painful and – _oh_ , you’re crying.

Someone scoffs. “What the fuck is your problem? Didn’t you get enough?”

You focus and— _oh,_ Ampora. Your hand is tightening around the weapon you had almost forgotten about and a vein on your forehead is throbbing. You open your mouth and—

“FUCK YOU! FUCK ALL OF YOU!” You’re screaming and you’re sobbing. The thick tears collecting in your eyes blur your vision as you lunge first at Eridan. You hear him make a gurgling sound as the knife slices into his chest. He moves an arm forward trying to stop you from further hurting him. You cut off his hand. And now you’re stabbing him anywhere you can reach. You can barely hear his screams over yours. Your lungs are burning with the strain you’re putting on them. You still can’t really see what you’re doing; the tears haven’t stopped.

You register the screaming all around you and it’s _so fucking **loud**. _ It’s overwhelming you and you can’t think straight. And you were already not thinking straight so now you’re just agitated and confused and— _shut up, shut up, shut up,shut up,shutup,shutupshutupshutup **SHUTUP**._

You whip your head to one side and out of your peripheral you see a figure coming up behind you. Your wrist snaps towards them, _whoever it is,_ and you slice their neck. Red splatters across your face and you take a moment to relish in the warmth of the thick liquid. You look down and see the figure gasping for breath as its neck bleeds. _Almost finished_ , you think, as you run your fingers through the slit of flesh you created. _Everyone_ should be like this— _white and red, cold and dead._ This way they can’t **speak** or **yell**. They can’t **hurt** you this way. They are all _so much **better**_ this way.

You look up and the dark figures are all around you again. And you remember, _these_ are the ones that did this to you. _These_ are the ones that need to pay. And you make sure that they do, as you lunge at _every single one of them_ and make sure they all _bleed_. You no longer feel like you control your body, yet you also feel _alive_. Like _this_ , _this_ right here, was the real you all along. _This_ is what you were always meant to do. _This_ is _You_.

You vaguely notice a body near yours helping to spread the red, and another body further from you, just watching. They are not black figures. So you ignore them and move on.

==> BE GAMZEE.

…

Your boyfriend needs help, you think as you effortlessly crush Equius' skull with your bare hands.

You don't think anymore after that.

==> BE DAVE.

You let yourself slide down the wall you’re leaning against as you watch Karkat and Gamzee murder everyone in the room before your eyes. It’s disgusting. It’s horrifying. But you’re not stopping it. You’re not even trying. You’re just…watching.


End file.
